


fire brothers

by havisham



Category: King Lear - Shakespeare
Genre: Betrayal, Canonical Character Death, Crueltide, Gen, Illegitimacy, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8946547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Edmund and Edgar and their tangled relationship with each other, from beginning to end.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laughing_Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laughing_Phoenix/gifts).



It would be easy to say that there was one turning point, one event that caused Edmund to turn away from his father and especially his brother -- one act of thoughtless cruelty, or one joke that wounded too deep. But it was never that. Instead, there were a thousand such acts, little cuts against Edmund’s exposed flesh, nicks and scratches that others would brush off, that others would teach themselves not to feel. 

But not Edmund. He resented each and every slight against his honor. He had been very small when he was brought to Gloucester's house, upon the untimely death of his mother. The servants took him to the kitchens -- he knew it was the kitchens for he heard the clatter of pots and pans close by -- and they cleaned the dirt from his face and tisked at the state of his clothes. He was not fit to be see by his lordship, nor the lady or even the little master until he had been cleaned up, had the lice picked from his hair. 

They put him in a tub many times bigger than himself and let loose a torrent of hot water, so much of it that Edmund feared that he would drown. He knew the servants would not mind if he drowned -- his mother had been one of them, before the duke’s wandering eye had fallen on her and she, as a consequence, had also fallen. 

“Why does the lordship bring it into the house? He must know the ladyship hates the sight of it,” said a girl who was scrubbing behind Edmund’s ears. “Hold still!” That was aimed at Edmund himself. 

“The little master is lonely and will have no other companion in his childhood, the poor thing,” said her companion, an older woman had once been the lordship’s nurse. “Perhaps the duke thinks he does this little wretch a kindness, bringing him here to learn from his betters. Lift your arms. Hurry boy, I’ve not got the time for silliness!” 

“Do not speak of me as if I’m not here,” Edmund said. He pointed at the two women and said, “I will remember this.” 

“Remember what?” said the nurse, and pushed his head under the water. He emerged from the foaming, heaving bathwater with a huge gasp. They whisked him out of the tub and dried him quickly, almost suffocating him in their haste to dry and dress him. The clothes they gave him were very fine, they were Edgar’s clothes, or had been until he had outgrown them. 

They were loose on Edmund and he shivered as they emerged from the warmth of the kitchens, where he had had his bath, and up two flights of stairs and down a hall, to wait in front of a closed pair of doors until someone on the other side bade them open the door. 

The first time he saw Edgar, his brother was standing away from the rest, his attention trained outside the window. There was that bird he liked, he was telling his mother, though he stopped when he realized that everyone else was looking at Edmund. 

They looked like brothers. They had the same stocky build, the same shock of dark hair, and the same pale blue eyes. Edgar looked him up and down, dispassionately, before he turned to their father, as if to confirm what he had already been told. “And Edmund is to be _mine_ , father?” 

“Yes,” Gloucester said and placed a brief hand on top of Edgar’s head. “His mother’s dead and there’s no one to care for him now.” 

“And your father is too … _kind_ ,” said Lady Gloucester, who was a tall, thin woman, whose skin seemed too tightly stretched across her face, “to send him away. But you needn’t worry, Edgar. He is no threat to you. You are still your father’s heir.”

“Edmund is a bastard, and always will be,” said his father bluntly. “There is nothing that anyone can change about that.” 

Edmund flinched at the word, bastard, and Edgar noticed it. He reached out and clasped Edmund’s hand. His skin smelled clean and his touch was powdery, like a petal on a flower. “Do not worry. I will care for you.” 

Edmund said nothing at first. But then the nurse harrumphed and nudged him forward. Mechanically, Edmund stepped forward and kissed Edgar’s cheek. “Thank you,” he said. 

Edgar smiled at him happily, and Edmund felt --

He felt nothing like he was supposed to feel. He certainly did not feel any gratitude for the lord or the lady, or happiness for their kind forbearance of his shameful birth. Surely they were more responsible for that than he? And as for that foolish boy in front of him, Edmund felt a low simmer of anger building in his veins. Edgar had everything Edmund wanted, and he wanted more. 

W _hy does he think I am his? No one owns me but myself!_

But Edmund knew already that he could not say what he felt. So he allowed himself to smile, and be led away to inspect Edgar’s toys, to be the boy they wanted him to be. 

Simple enough. 

*

The upper gallery afforded the best view of the court below and was, as on most days, entirely deserted from the prying eyes of servants that would send him away. Here, the air was filled with slow-floating motes of dust, sparkling like dull gold in the mid-afternoon light. It was cold here, far from the huge fireplaces of the hall below, but Edmund wrapped the heavy, velvet curtains around him to provide him with some warmth, and someplace to hide, if need be. 

Edmund was almost fifteen, but he was still small enough that he could hide here, and watch the scene unfold below. The princesses, Regan and Goneril, were holding court in the absence of their father, the King, who was traveling the northern parts of the country in the company of his youngest daughter Cordelia. 

The gossip at court was vicious, as always, and spoke certainly of Cordelia’s favored status and her sisters’ lower one. But looking down on them now, Edmund did not think they seemed very upset with their father and sister’s absence. Instead, they strove here and there, two queens in a hive, ruling the court easily between them. Edmund leaned in, interested despite himself. 

He thought he could learn from them. 

But then a shadow fell upon him. Edmund looked up and smiled. “Edgar, come here.” 

“What are you doing here? I was looking for you,” Edgar said, crouching down to sit next to him. Edmund moved over to make room for him. Edgar was still dressed for riding, and the cold of the evening came off of him like a pillar of ice. 

Edmund threw the curtain around him too, though they made an awkward fit. Edmund rested his head on Edgar’s shoulder for a moment. “I couldn’t stand it. Father was after me again. He hounds me when you’re not there to stop him.” 

“He does not mean to make you unhappy. He does not understand that you take his jokes so much to heart.” 

“And how else should I take them? He makes me ashamed to be alive! I know that when I come of age, I will receive nothing, he’s made that clear. Why must he torment me with that knowledge?” 

“You know that as long as I live, you will have a place with me! Edmund, do not be down-hearted.” 

“It is easy for you to say. But I know how easily a brother can be replaced in one’s heart. What if you married and your wife thought there was not enough room for both her and me --” Here Edmund paused and tilted his head to the side, deep in thought. “Edgar, have you ever thought of marrying Cordelia?” 

“She doesn’t love me,” Edgar said. “Besides, Lear will have her marry the Duke of Burgundy, or perhaps the King of France himself.” 

“No homebred noble for his precious one. That leaves the other two… Oh, come, don’t look like that!” 

“They are already married, Edmund! Well, Regan almost so,” Edgar said, looking scandalized. 

Edmund laughed and clasped Edgar’s cheek. “Sometimes I think you are younger than I. I did not mean to marry them.” 

 

“Don't be in such a hurry to seem so cynical and worldly,” Edgar said slowly. “You can't know what the end of such a path lies.” 

Edmund sighed and leaned against his brother. “Then you will have to protect my innocence.”

Edmund watched as his brother opened and closed his mouth, like a fish on a lure. Caught. 

*

Edmund often had cause to imitate his brother’s hand. He started off with minor notes, excuses, little letters of introduction for himself, extensions of credit, appeals granted and denied. He could do his father’s hand too, and he had copies of both their seals.

Bastard, thief, counterfeiter, he was all that and more. 

*

Tenderly, Edmund took Edgar aside to explain to him his current predicament. “I do not understand how he could have thought I wrote that letter,” Edgar said, with tears in his eyes. Edmund nodded and brushed them away. 

“You have enemies who wish to remove you from our father’s heart. But know that I am your champion, and I will not stop until your name is cleared.”

Edgar thanked him fervently, kissed his hand, and fled. 

*

Edmund asked Goneril once if she loved her sisters, if she ever had. She looked at him narrowly, her green eyes bright as apples, dangerous as poison. “Can anyone feel only one thing about her sister -- or his brother? No, we feel it all. Love and hate, forgiveness and fury. I have been married and I have birthed a child, and yet I know nothing like it.” 

“Ah,” Edmund said, and stretched out in the bed. “I wonder what Regan’s answer would be.” 

“Why don’t you ask her?” Goneril said sweetly. 

(But of course, Regan’s answer was the same, though she naturally heightened the sentiments, especially when Edmund happened to mention that he had asked Goneril first.) 

*

Of course, he lost his earldom and like a bad player on the stage, intent only on extending his scene for as long as he could, Edmund leaned against Edgar as they waited for word from Lear and Cordelia’s prison cell. It was a bad wound that Edgar had dealt him, and one that promised to be fatal. Albany strove and fretted, asked for news, but Edgar was still. 

“It is fair that you should kill me,” Edmund told Edgar, who did not respond. When Edmund reached a blood-soaked hand towards him, Edgar flinched away. “Brother, will you not look at me before I die?” 

“I see you and in my mind’s eye, I see our father’s eyes, put out one by one,” Edgar said, in a harsh whisper. “Such is the picture I have of you now. It will never leave me.” 

“A grim sight,” Edmund said, almost grinning before he remember that he was dying, that Edgar had dealt the blow, and that he deserved it. His blood warmed the lining of his coat before it grew cold and stiff at the ends. It had been such a beautiful coat too, more lovely than anything he’d ever owned. He knew the messengers would be too late. 

“But still,” Edmund mused aloud, “once, I was yours.” 

Edgar turned to him at last. “But I did not keep you well. Goodbye, Edmund.” 

“Nor I you. Goodbye, Edgar.” 

Albany stirred. “I hear them coming. Bear him hence,” he said to his soldiers, who took Edmund away for his very last act. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta likeadeuce.
> 
> Title by This Mortal Coil.


End file.
